


Funeral

by Roselightfairy



Series: Old Neville/Luna stuff [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Scene Expansion, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy
Summary: An expansion of the scene in which Luna helps Neville into a chair at Dumbledore's funeral.





	Funeral

There were people _everywhere._

Masses of them, pouring out of the castle, streaming in from Hogsmeade, swarming across the grounds.  They were all wearing dress robes, all flocking towards the same place – a raised dais, near the lake, set before rows and rows of chairs.

Neville smoothed his own plain black robes, feeling slightly self-conscious among all these people – many well-known, incredibly famous, all coming to pay their last respects.

He moved gingerly, still a bit sore from the injuries he’d sustained the night – the night – the night it happened.  He couldn’t bear to think the words, even though he was about to see the proof – see the body – right before his eyes.  Madame Pomfrey had fixed him up perfectly, of course, but she’d told him the stiffness would last a few days still, told him that that was typical of Dark magic.

Dark magic.

He still couldn’t believe it.  He’d fought Dark magic, fought Death Eaters.  It was like something his parents would do, like something Gran had always told him.  In that respect, he supposed he was proud of himself, but based on the events of the night – he’d rather none of it had happened at all.  Nothing good had come out of it, nothing at all, even if he had fought a few Dark wizards.

He found his chair, and prepared to sit, wincing a little.  Sitting and standing still hurt.  He gripped the back of the chair and began to painfully lower himself into the seat.

“Let me help.”

He hadn’t noticed her approach until she was right next to him, her voice in his ear and her hands on his shoulders.  She slid an arm around his waist and held his other hand firmly, lowering him gently into the chair.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.  She said nothing, just squeezed gently on his hand – he shivered a little with pleasure at her touch – before letting go and sliding into the seat next to him.

They sat quietly for a bit, and Neville looked around.  He saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny already sitting together directly across the aisle.  Hermione’s eyes were already full of tears, and Ron had his arm around her.  Harry was holding Ginny’s hand tightly, but his face was unreadable.  Neville knew he had actually been there when – when – when it happened.  He was very relieved not to be Harry.  He would never have wanted to see that.

“Hmm?” he asked, realizing that she was talking to him.

“I said, do you think we’ll have the DA back next year?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said miserably.  “I expect so; with Dumbledore gone we’ll be needing Defense training more than ever, won’t we?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging; he could feel her shoulders moving up and down next to him.  “I’d been hoping for the coin to burn all year, you know,” he nodded; he did know, “but now . . .” She trailed off.  “Now, I believe I’d rather it hadn’t.”

He nodded again, but then they had to stop talking; the service had begun.

He tried to remain stoic, tried not to show emotion, but he as soon as Hagrid began to walk down the aisle holding the body, Neville felt tears burning the corners of his eyes.  He tried to blink them back, but one fell anyway, trickling down his cheek, and more followed.

When the merpeople began to sing, he couldn’t restrain the small sob that burst up from his chest.  He looked down, eyes blurred, but he felt the pressure of her hand as she laid it on his, and he returned it gratefully.  How was it that she always knew exactly what you were thinking, exactly what you needed?

When the ceremony was over, he watched Harry and Ginny talking quietly.  His heart ached.

She took his hand and helped ease him out of his chair.  When he was finally on his feet, he turned to face her, looking her in the eye for the first time.  She was giving him the look, the one that had been in his dreams all year, where her beautiful silvery eyes seemed to look right through you, penetrate your soul.

Her eyes were dry, he noticed, which only made him more conscious that his own were not.  He reached up a hand to dry them, but she stayed him by taking it in her own.

“You know,” she said, “I do think the DA will be back.  After all, what that group meant was exactly what Dumbledore’s life meant.  Exactly the values he wants us to have – what we will need to have – to win this war.”

“Explain,” he said.

“Friendship.”  Her voice was quiet.  “I’d never had a friend before the DA, and I think it’s a wonderful feeling.  Hope.  Dreams.  Joy.”  She paused for a moment, and added, “Love.”

He was acutely aware of her hand still holding his.  He reached for her other one.  He needed to tell her, and he needed to do it now.  “Luna . . .” he said, and then paused, still searching for the right words.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.  “You don’t need to say anything.”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, lips brushing softly against his skin like the wings of a butterfly.  Then she gently disengaged her hands from his, turned around, and disappeared.

He found her later, standing at the edge of the lake and gazing out across the still water, as though waiting for something to appear there.  But she heard him approaching, and turned to face him.  “Hello, Neville.”

“Hey, Luna,” he said quietly.  He stood beside her, but he wasn’t looking at the lake.  He was looking at the tomb next to them.  “You never let me finish earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.  “What were you going to say?”

“Well,” he said, shrugging.  “I wasn’t really going to _say_ anything.”

At her puzzled look, he took her hands again, both of them, and turned her to face him.  Her eyes were still piercing him, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a way that made him want to stand there and keep looking at them forever.

He didn’t, though.  Instead he leaned forward and kissed her, on the lips this time, pulling her close to him.  He felt her hands untangle from his and wrap around his waist.  When they finally broke apart, she stayed there, arms still around him, and he leaned down to fit his chin on top of her head, burying his face in her long blond hair.

Maybe something good had come out of that night after all.

 


End file.
